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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26844343">A Sadness Runs Through Him</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/noodlerdoodler/pseuds/noodlerdoodler'>noodlerdoodler</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>we didn't choose this life, we're just (kind of) living it [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Umbrella Academy (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Anxiety Attacks, Autistic Vanya Hargreeves, Canon Temporary Character Death, Canon-Typical Violence, Diego Hargreeves is Jewish, F/F, Family Fluff, Gen, Good Sibling Allison Hargreeves, Good Sibling Diego Hargreeves, Good Sibling Klaus Hargreeves, Good Sibling Vanya Hargreeves, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Jewish David "Dave" Katz, Mental Breakdown, Multi, Number Five | The Boy Has Issues, Number Five | The Boy Needs A Hug, Number Five | The Boy and Luther Hargreeves are Twins, Number Five | The Boy has PTSD, Number Five | The Boy-centric, Other, Period-Typical Racism, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Protective Siblings, Sickfic</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 13:20:22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>16,604</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26844343</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/noodlerdoodler/pseuds/noodlerdoodler</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>“No one leaves until we figure this out,” Five snapped. </p><p>Wordlessly, Luther grabbed him by the fabric of his sweater and blazer. He lifted his brother off his feet as if he weighed nothing and threw him sideways, tossed him over the side of the balcony. It happened so quickly that nobody moved to stop him- and maybe they wouldn't have anyway. They'd grown up with superpowers, pitted against each other in training sessions by their father, so they were all pretty accustomed to roughhousing. Knives were thrown as often as insults. They all knew Five was way too agile to be hurt so easily. </p><p>More irritated than worried, Diego watched from the stairs as his older brother flew through the air in a perfect arch and then plummeted towards the ground. He knew that Five would just jump out of the way and reappear somewhere else- probably out in the alley, so that he could work off some steam. He always jumped out of the way, even before he'd fully mastered his power. Teleporting seemed instinctual to Five. So, Diego was stunned to watch as the boy just sunk like a stone in water.</p><p>There was a thump, followed by the sharp cracking of bone, as his body hit the floor of the shop.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Allison Hargreeves &amp; Diego Hargreeves, Diego Hargreeves &amp; Luther Hargreeves, Elliott Gussman/Luther Hargreeves, Number Five | The Boy &amp; Allison Hargreeves, Number Five | The Boy &amp; Diego Hargreeves, Number Five | The Boy &amp; Klaus Hargreeves, Number Five | The Boy &amp; Luther Hargreeves, Number Five | The Boy &amp; Vanya Hargreeves, Number Five | The Boy (Umbrella Academy) &amp; Everyone, Sissy Cooper/Vanya Hargreeves</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>we didn't choose this life, we're just (kind of) living it [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1957954</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>39</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>574</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Held together with string</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Everyone kept asking for the siblings perspective or a sequel to Don't You Dare Forget The Sun. So, why not both?</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Whenever they ended up in a room together, the Hargreeves siblings had a tendency to argue. It had been the that way when they were little kids, (even at Ben's funeral), and back when they were in 2019 facing the end of the world, so it shouldn't really have come as a surprise that the same was true in 1963. New timeline, new places and faces, but they were just as dysfunctional as ever. Of course they were. Every time Klaus opened his mouth to speak, Diego had to fight the urge to stuff the disgusting Jell-O into it just to shut him up and Klaus was his <em>favourite</em> of his siblings. Who knew how long the argument would've continued for if they hadn't been interrupted?</p>
<p>“Guys, you all die! I was there, I saw it. And I wanna forget it but I can’t,” There was an undeniable wobble in Five’s voice as he cut through the hubbub.</p>
<p>That shut the rest of them up almost immediately. It wasn't the first time that they'd all supposedly died but that didn't make it any less uncomfortable- or even scary- to think about. No wonder Five looked seriously spooked, his eyes glassy and unfocused as if he saw their corpses every time he looked at them. There was a kind of urgency to Five as he spoke, an unfamiliar fear in his voice, and it seemed that he was more scared than he’d been letting on. Nobody else knew what to say. </p>
<p>“I saw Russian nukes vaporise the world with all of you in it…" Five didn't seem to be able to look any of them in the eye now, "In a war that never happened until we brought it here. And Hazel gave his life to save us, so you may need to shut up and listen to me.”</p>
<p>Even Klaus had lowered his drink now. On the couch, Vanya was twiddling her thumbs and looking anxious. </p>
<p>“I don’t know if the things we’ve experienced here are all connected. I don’t know if there’s a reason for everything,” Five looked smaller than ever with his hands stuffed in his pockets and his shoulders hunched slightly, “But Dad will. We need to talk to him before everyone and everything we know is dead.”</p>
<p>Before anyone had the chance to process the plan, Luther was on his feet, “Alright. I’m out.”</p>
<p>And once again, the moment of solidarity over, the Umbrella Academy was at each other's throats again. Maybe Luther hadn't seen the same things that Diego had seen, (aka the Frankel Footage), but surely he wasn't stupid enough to think Dad wasn't involved in the slightest. Or maybe he was. When it came to pure stupidity, his siblings were constantly surprising Diego. But if he was pissed at Luther, even slightly amused, than their older brother was furious. </p>
<p>“Did you even hear me, Luther?” Five demanded, turning to scowl at him.</p>
<p>“Yeah. Yeah, I did. I heard a fifty-eight year old man who still wants his daddy to come and fix everything,” Considering not so long ago Luther had been convinced of the same thing, it was a pretty low blow for him, “Well, you can count me out. It’s time we all grew the hell up.”</p>
<p>Again, pretty ironic coming from Luther. But nobody got the chance to say so as their biggest brother stalked towards the stairs, an unreadable expression on his face, and left the rest of them just standing there. Several of the siblings reacted loudly, irritated with him. The same couldn't be said about Five, who was still standing in the exact same place and had a bizarre look on his face. He looked as if he'd been punched hard in the gut, taken aback, but the anger that had been there before had vanished. Now, it was more like Five couldn't process what was happening right in front of him. </p>
<p>Allison rolled her eyes, “Luther!”</p>
<p>“Where are you going?” Klaus asked curiously, leaning forward in his seat. He was probably just looking for a ride. </p>
<p>“Come back,” Diego got up from his chair and trailed his brother, ready to drag him back if necessary.</p>
<p>Hell, he'd drag Luther by the scruff of his neck to the grassy knoll himself just to prove his point. He kept up his pursuit as Luther started down the stairs, intending to talk (or punch) some common sense into him. Before he could so much as get a word in though, Five popped into existence right in front of them and stopped both his brothers in his tracks. It was hard to comprehend what the look on his face meant: while his lips had pressed into a stern line, his eyes looked distant and he seemed to stare right through them as he spoke. As if he wasn't all there.</p>
<p>“No one leaves until we figure this out,” Five snapped. </p>
<p>Wordlessly, Luther grabbed him by the fabric of his sweater and blazer. He lifted his brother off his feet as if he weighed nothing and threw him sideways, tossed him over the side of the balcony. It happened so quickly that nobody moved to stop him- and maybe they wouldn't have anyway. In any other family perhaps, what Luther did would be a major cause for concern, but not amongst the Hargreeves. They'd grown up with superpowers, pitted against each other in training sessions by their father, so they were all pretty accustomed to roughhousing. Knives were thrown as often as insults. They all knew Five was way too agile to be hurt so easily. </p>
<p>More irritated than worried, Diego watched from the stairs as his older brother flew through the air in a perfect arch and then plummeted towards the ground. He knew that Five would just jump out of the way and reappear somewhere else- probably out in the alley, so that he could work off some steam. He always jumped out of the way, even before he'd fully mastered his power. Teleporting seemed instinctual to Five. So, Diego was stunned to watch as the boy just sunk like a stone in water.</p>
<p>There was a thump, followed by the sharp cracking of bone, as his body hit the floor of the shop.</p>
<p>“Oh my god, Luther, what have you done?” Allison’s shrill voice rang out from where she had rushed, (stumbling in her tipsy state), to the balcony.</p>
<p>Even as he was racing down the stairs, Diego was hoping that his brother would leap easily to his feet and laugh the whole thing off. He had always seemed untouchable to the rest of them, hardened beyond human after his years spent in the apocalypse, shrugging off any wounds and pressing on with whatever he was doing. Five was tough as old boots, usually getting up and rolling his eyes at how stupid the rest of them were. But as Diego and Luther reached the bottom of the stairs, Five’s crumpled form looked frail and pathetic. He hadn't moved, just lying there like a toy that a child had tossed aside. </p>
<p>He looked so <em>childlike</em>. His body was splayed unnaturally against the hard floor and his eyes looked scarily… Empty. Glassy. It reminded Diego of when he’d found Patch in the hotel room and he had to bite back the bile rising in his throat as he crouched over his brother. Was he breathing? Five had to be breathing. He had to be. Yes, yes, he must be or else his chest wouldn’t be rising and falling like that, albeit shallowly. Still, Diego couldn't stop himself from pressing two fingers gently to his brother's neck and confirming that his pulse was still racing. Even if the rest of him was unmoving. </p>
<p>“Five! Five, can you hear me?” Luther grabbed their brother by the shoulder and shook him.</p>
<p>It didn’t jolt the boy out of his hypnotic state, his gaze fixed on the ceiling above them, and Diego pushed Luther’s hands away without even looking at him. The idiot… Moving an injured person was a bad idea at the best of times, let alone if you have super strength. What if Luther did some real damage by shaking him like that? More than he’d done already. In a trance, Five didn't so much as nod or even blink in response- it was like his entire body had promptly shut down when he hit the floor. </p>
<p>There was a patter of feet, alerting them to the fact that Allison had reached the bottom of the stairs and was running towards them. Concern creased her brow and it looked like her motherly instincts were on the verge of kicking in as she stared down at little Five. It probably took everything in her not to cradle him in her arms and promise him that everything was going to be okay, Diego thought, like she did with Claire when she scraped her knee. The rest of their siblings hadn’t managed to make it down the stairs- Vanya had made it halfway before she'd had to sit down, her knees too wobbly to hold her up, and Klaus was leaning heavily on the banister. </p>
<p>“He’s unresponsive,” Diego finally looked up to glance at the rest of them, "We need to get him to a hospital." </p>
<p>As much as he hated the idea of moving Five, they couldn’t just leave him here. He needed help- really, Five needed Mom but she didn't even exist yet. Not the Mom that they knew anyway, who'd always patched them up when they got hurt. Did ambulances exist yet? They must do if police cars did. Could they afford one? Diego's mind was racing as he stared down at his brother, gently pressing a hand to the boy's chest to make sure that his breathing was still steady. <em>The car</em>, he thought, the car would be quicker. If they took the car, he could slam his foot down and they’d get to the hospital faster-</p>
<p>His thoughts were interrupted by a sudden, alarming, hysterical laugh. At first, he thought that it must be Klaus cracking under the pressure and looked up to glower at him. But his brother wasn’t laughing, just mumbling to himself as he pressed his head against the cool metal of the balcony. The sound was much closer than he was anyway, way too loud in the shocked atmosphere of the room. It wasn’t Klaus. It wasn’t Luther or Allison or even Vanya. </p>
<p>Five, his eyes still hazy as if he was somewhere far away, had started laughing.</p>
<p>The boy was still lying frozen on his back but the corners of his lips had curled upwards in a familiar grin. It was the same one he used to wear, (Diego's eyes stung as he remembered), when they had watched cartoons as kids. Five's chest was shaking violently as he cackled with laughter, the noise unnatural, unfamiliar, and bouncing off the walls of the huge television store. His mouth was open a little too wide, lolling a little to the side, and his smile looked more crazed than amused. Like he had finally snapped.</p>
<p>After weeks, years, however long it had been for him, it had finally happened: Five had lost it.</p>
<p>“Oh my god,” Vanya’s voice wobbled, "Oh god." </p>
<p>She was rocking back and forth gently on the spot, her head pressed into her hands as if she couldn’t bear to watch. Diego was almost jealous that she could get away with reacting like that, since he wished that he could just close his eyes and wait for somebody else to deal with the situation. But he couldn't. He had to do something. Anything. <em>But what?</em> Nobody seemed to know what to do, just watching as Five laughed hysterically to himself. Whatever the joke was, none of the rest of them got it.The contrast between the wide grin plastered across his face and the cold, empty look in his eyes was seriously disturbing. </p>
<p>“We need to get him to a hospital,” Allison repeated firmly and she turned to their brother, “Luther, do you think you can get him in the car without hurting him?”</p>
<p>For a moment, Luther seemed too stunned to do anything except stare at the boy and tremble like a leaf. The horror of what he’d done was setting in apparently. Most likely, he was already blaming himself for breaking their brother and adding that to the burden of guilt he carried around with him. Finally, slowly, Luther realised that they were waiting for a response and started nodding his head. He carefully eased his arms underneath Five’s crumpled body and lifted him off the ground, clutching him in his arms like he was made of porcelain.</p>
<p>Without another word, Diego leapt to his feet and grabbed the keys on his way out.</p>
<p>Thank god, they had a car. He wrenched the door open so violently that he was surprised the handle didn’t snap off in his hand. Between them, Allison and Luther gently lowered their older (<em>but he looked so small and fragile and helpless</em>) brother onto the backseat, trying to avoid doing anymore damage. Soft distressed noises were coming from behind them: Vanya had managed to scrape herself off the stairs and was now standing in the door to Morty’s, her arms wrapped tightly around herself. </p>
<p>Before Diego could slide into the driver’s seat, Allison grabbed him by the elbow and pulled him back. He almost snapped at her, scowling, but didn’t shake off her grip.</p>
<p>“Vanya should go. Or Klaus,” His sister told him, sympathy dripping from her voice, and she shushed him when he tried to argue, “No, listen for once. Diego, it’s-“ Allison looked uncomfortable, “They won’t let you in with him.”</p>
<p>A moment passed. Then another. Until it clicked what she was trying to say.</p>
<p>So far, Diego had spent most of his time in the 1960s locked up away from the world. Not on the outside. He’d barely even got a glimpse of the racism that plagued 1963 Dallas, too busy wrestling with the orderlies calling him crazy, but Allison had. Dallas wasn't safe for people like her, people like them, not really. There were only pockets of good people to be found here, who wouldn't spit on them or call them names. He hadn't seen it for himself but she must have. Three whole years in the segregated South? Diego was grateful that she was trained in self-defence. And that she-</p>
<p>“Hospitals are still segregated,” She squeezed his arm gently, comfortingly, “It would be better if one of the others went.”</p>
<p>Diego hesitated, rolling the cold metal of the car keys in his hand. He hesitated not just because of the potential racism he might face if he went, (he'd be able to take on any racist bastards, he knew that), but also because he knew there was still a reward out for his capture. Posters of him were still plastered around Dallas. He’d stick out like a sore thumb if he took Five to the hospital and would run the risk of somebody turning him into the police. Last time they’d caught up with him… it hadn’t been pretty. And he’d ended up in an institution for two months. Maybe the others would even get arrested for hiding him and then who would look out for Five?</p>
<p>But his hesitation only lasted a few seconds. Because, damn the consequences, there was no way that Diego was sitting around and twiddling his thumbs while his brother was in this state. He just couldn’t do it. Diego couldn’t lose somebody else because he wasn’t there when they needed him. </p>
<p>“Like hell,” He ripped his arm from her grip and got into the car, slamming the door.</p>
<p>Thankfully, Luther didn’t try and argue over who was driving- he just squeezed into the passenger seat without another word. If he had kicked up a fuss right now, Diego probably would’ve put his head through the windshield. Maybe he had finally grown out of that<em> Number One, Number Two</em> bullshit... Or maybe he'd been stunned into the silence by what he'd done to Five. </p>
<p>Diego checked over his shoulder that Five was secure as possible in the backseat, grateful the car had seatbelts so his brother could be strapped down. His brother was completely limp, as if bones had turned to mush, and was lolling slightly to one side. He didn't seem to be able to hold his own head up. Hopefully, Five would be safe back there. Diego stuck the key in and turned it, firing up the engine. From outside the store, Allison was still watching them, with worry in her eyes.</p>
<p>Luther cleared his throat and advised, “Drive slowly.”</p>
<p>“Are you sure your ability isn’t being super smart?” Diego asked dryly and then, when he saw the hurt surface in his brother’s eyes, he added, “I will. Good idea, bro.”</p>
<p>He wasn’t really angry with Luther, just concerned. Two months of therapy had taught him that he had a tendency to take out his frustration on others when things were outside of his control. Thanks, Dr Moncton. Thinking about the asylum sent a shot of fear through his veins... Some of the people there shared the same absent look that Five had in his eyes. Alarm bells blared in his head and he gripped the steering wheel so hard that his knuckles turned white. </p>
<p>As the car pulled out onto the street, he caught sight in the rearview mirror of Allison pulling their little sister into a hug and resting her chin on top of Vanya's head. She was soothing Vanya gently, saying something that he couldn't make out from here. Part of him wished that Diego had insisted on his sisters coming with them and it surprised him. He didn’t usually welcome comfort, or even company, from anyone except his mom. Fucking therapy.</p>
<p>Luckily, the hospital wasn’t too far away and Diego was able to avoid any major bumps in the road, even though he hadn't driven in a while. Not since 2019. He drove as smoothly as possible, constantly glancing back to make sure Five wasn’t flopping about like a fish out of water, although the abrupt interludes of his brother howling with laughter nearly caused him to jerk the steering wheel a few times. The unnerving sound caused him to exchange looks with Luther, who was gritting his teeth nervously, as Five's hysterical giggling fits seemed to come and go in waves. It wasn't clear what he was laughing at. </p>
<p>Five always seemed so… Together. No matter what happened. Five had seemed unbreakable, like he was made of tougher stuff than the rest of them were somehow, and seeing him like this-</p>
<p>“Stop by the door and I’ll take him in,” Luther offered, as they pulled into the parking lot.</p>
<p>He shook his head, ignoring his brother's instructions, “If you think I’m waiting in the car, you must be high.”</p>
<p>“Diego, they won't let you-" </p>
<p>“I’m not letting anyone else die on my watch,” Diego growled, getting out of the car and slamming the door. </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Boys are raised to be men</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>There was no doubt that they were all stressed about Five. After all, they’d all heard the eerie noise of their brother hitting the ground with a thump and an unsettling crack. They’d all heard the boy’s hysterical laughter bouncing off the walls as he lay crumpled and lifeless on the floor, the alien sound bursting from him. But the way that Klaus was pacing back and forth across the room, his hands shaking and his voice jittering as he talked, wasn’t making anyone feel better. </p>
<p>“Maybe he was just tired out,” Ben suggested, perched on the edge of the couch, “You know he runs out of juice if he uses his power too much.”</p>
<p>“Did you see the look on his face?” Klaus turned on his heel, wishing he had something stronger than whiskey to get him through this, “He looked… Sorta dead inside. No offence.”</p>
<p>“None taken,” His dead brother sighed, crossing his arms, “You look dead on the outside. How does it feel hitting rock bottom again?”</p>
<p>Klaus hissed at him through his teeth. As if it was somehow Ben’s fault that he had relapsed dramatically and danced around the supermarket chugging whiskey like it was water- as if he hadn’t supported him for the three years of sobriety and held him tightly when he cried through the withdrawals. Ben tried to sympathise with him, he really did, but watching his brother throw away his life repeatedly hurt. He’d lost of how many times he’d seen Klaus be resuscitated. </p>
<p>But right now, they had other concerns. Five was in the hospital, in some kind of shock, and despite their promises to call with updates, nobody had heard from Luther or Diego. Anyone who ever said ‘no news is good news’ was talking out of their ass. For all they knew, Five could be hooked up to machines in the ICU and they couldn’t be any the wiser. </p>
<p>“Let’s not assume the worst,” Allison had poured herself a cup of coffee in an attempt to sober herself up, (damn enabler), “Maybe there just aren’t any phones nearby. Or they could be on their way home right now.”</p>
<p>It was a nice thought but none of them found any comfort in it. They all- Ben, Klaus, Vanya, and even the lingering Elliott- knew that there was no truth to her words. Instead of responding, their little sister just lowered her head onto her knees and rested it there. Vanya hadn’t said much, mostly emitting helpless murmurs every few minutes and trying to keep herself calm. Even to Elliott, it was obvious that she was struggling to process what was happening. </p>
<p>She was the same when they were little, Ben remembers. Always falling silent when she was upset and trying to make herself as small as possible, as if she wanted to disappear completely. As an infant, Vanya had soothed herself by sucking her thumb. Later, she’d started rocking back and forth like someone would a sleeping baby. She was doing it right now.</p>
<p>On the other hand, Klaus was still pacing impatiently, “But why didn’t he just jump?”</p>
<p>Ben knew the question wasn’t directed at him, since he had already given his insight, but also understood that his sisters would be none the wiser. Unless Five had told them anything… He’d always been close with Vanya but that was before she’d lost all her memories. Despite having no memories of them playing together as kids, however, Vanya seemed to understand the significance of her (unknowingly) favourite brother being hurt. </p>
<p>Nobody had mentioned the idea of going home for the night. They all just waited patiently in Elliott’s living room for one or both of their brothers to call; Klaus waltzed back and forth, Vanya was hunched over with her back pressed against the couch, and Allison was sipping her coffee nervously. </p>
<p>“Maybe he burnt himself out,” Allison said, “You know he can only jump so many times before he runs out of energy.”</p>
<p>Ben gestured to her with pride, “Thank you! Attagirl!” </p>
<p>Rolling his eyes, Klaus ignored both of them and picked up his flask to shake the last few drops of whiskey into his mouth. Idiot. While Klaus had been sober for a while, his hippy dippy coping mechanisms hadn’t been enough to fall back on when he was distraught. He was too scared and upset to reach for any support beyond the bottle, even if he had let Allison envelop him in a hug earlier. He tossed the empty flask aside and it clattered across the floor.</p>
<p>“Can you, uh, maybe not do that?” An uncertain voice piped up.</p>
<p>Elliott, the sheepish and very gullible man who owned this place, was sitting in an armchair and looking very uncomfortable that he’d been left alone with them. God only knew what Five had told him. He seemed like a nice guy, if a little paranoid, and Ben wished that he could assure him that his siblings were (mostly) harmless. He was cradling a bowl of Jell-O close to his chest. </p>
<p>With interest, Ben leaned forward, “Ask him if Five’s been acting weird.”</p>
<p>“Five’s always acting weird,” Klaus snorted. </p>
<p>True as that may be, Five’s weirdness usually followed a sort of logic. He’d worked himself up into such a state while trying to stop the apocalypse but that was only because he was so determined to succeed- even if he’d written on walls and stalked prosthetic labs and gotten blitzed on margaritas, Five had always had a plan. Nothing seemed remotely planned about his fall. </p>
<p>Besides, Elliott had seen more of their brother than the rest of them had recently. He’d popped into his store on the same day he’d arrived in Dallas, if Elliott was to be believed, and the others had followed soon after. It was like the contraptions on the roof were magnets, drawing the Umbrella Academy to the television store, instead of satellites. </p>
<p>Vanya peered up from behind her hair, “Is he okay?”</p>
<p>“Five? No idea. Hopefully, it’s just a concussion. Maybe a few broken ribs,” Klaus trilled, trying to lift the serious atmosphere a little with his bouncy tone. </p>
<p>To everyone else, it was apparent that Vanya wasn’t concerned about Five in this particular moment. Having lost her memories, it was obvious that she was puzzled by Klaus’s weird habits- talking to thin air didn’t inspire confidence in most people. Either Klaus himself didn’t realise what she was meant or was deliberately choosing to ignore the question, hard to tell with him. So, the burden fell on Allison to explain to the other two. She pursed her lips.</p>
<p>Then, she waved a hand about vaguely, “Klaus can commune with the dead. It makes him look a little, you know, loopy sometimes. Usually, he’s just talking to a ghost.” </p>
<p>“A really ugly one,” Klaus announced, pulling a face at his dead brother, “Yeah, this one’s not a looker. And he’s really <em>rude</em>.”</p>
<p>If they weren’t waiting on important news, Ben probably would’ve pissed off and wandered around Dallas for a bit. See the sights or whatever. He loved his brother, of course he did, but spending a lifetime together meant they often rubbed each other the wrong way. And Klaus loved to tease him. Ben just pulled a face back at him and got up from the couch to cross the room, leaning against the banister. </p>
<p>Meanwhile, Elliott leapt up and backed away from them so quickly that he tripped on the rug. He stumbled but recovered quickly, grabbing the back of the armchair to support himself. Unfortunately, (or fortunately, depending on your perspective), his Jell-O didn't survive the trip and slipped out of his hands, landing with a splat on the floor. He didn't even seem to notice the upturned bowl lying at his feet. </p>
<p>In a horrified voice, he uttered, “There’s a ghost in here?”</p>
<p>Amused, Klaus made a big show of looking around, as if he was seeing the room for the first time. As if he didn’t inspect every single room he wandered into because he didn’t want a nasty surprise to sneak up on him. And he knew his powers didn’t work when he was drunk anyway- the whole reason that his addiction had formed. It numbed his abilities just as much as it numbed his pain, making it easier for him to function on a daily basis. Yet, also harder. </p>
<p>“There’s ghosts everywhere,” Klaus said finally, “They stick to people, places… Like glitter.”</p>
<p>“Glitter?” Ben raised an eyebrow.</p>
<p>“Glitter?” Allison echoed, one hand on her hip. </p>
<p>Quiet as ever, Vanya just acknowledged this with an exasperated nod and slid down further onto the floor. She was almost lying down now, only her shoulders and head propped against the couch. Even with her legs spread out in front of her, Vanya was too small to take up much room at all. She looked tired, her face drained and pale; the last few days must’ve been a lot for her to deal with, finding out not only that she had a family but that they were as dysfunctional as hers.</p>
<p>Not for the first time, Ben wished he could wrap his arms around his sister’s shoulders and give her a big hug. Vanya looked like she needed one. But while Klaus had gotten good at making him corporal, so he could interact with the real world, he seemed to be keen on hiding Ben from the rest of them. He had no idea why but he couldn’t do much about it right now. </p>
<p>“You know I’m not good with words when I’m sobering up,” Klaus waved their sister’s amusement away with his left hand, as he finally stopped pacing and flopped face-down across the length of the couch, “I need another drink, Allie.” </p>
<p>“No more day-drinking for you,” Allison moved closer so that she could ruffle his hair affectionately, leaning on the back of the couch, “You’re drunk enough.”</p>
<p>If they could’ve seen him, Ben would’ve cheered and turned cartwheels with delight. Not that he was capable of turning a cartwheel or making himself visible- both abilities were much more in Klaus’ territory. Still, he was secretly pleased that Allison had put a stop to the drinking. He was worrying about the slippery slope that started with drinking and descended into worst things. After all, Klaus had only experimented with alcohol and weed as a teenager but had been hooked on heroin by the time he got kicked out of the house. </p>
<p>“That’s not how addiction works!” Their brother whined pathetically.</p>
<p>He had the look in his eye that Ben had seen a million times. The look that said he would do anything if it meant he could keep the ghosts away for five more minutes. In the past, Klaus had resorted to violence, sex, and stealing to keep his buzz going. Anything he needed to. Ben gulped and hoped that Allison would be able to live up to her promise. At least she could definitely take him if it came down to a fight. </p>
<p>“So, do people appear just in the places they died?” Elliott was still reeling from the séance bombshell, “Can you… It’s stupid, but is my dad here? Dentist-looking guy? Real tall?” </p>
<p>“Nope, can’t help you, buddy,” Klaus said quickly, lifting his face up off the couch so he could look at him apologetically, “Not really in the right state of mind for summoning.”</p>
<p>“He means he’s drunk,” Allison sung, proving her point, “His powers don’t work when he’s drunk. Like a handicap.”</p>
<p><em>Like a nightmare</em>, Ben thought privately. The rest of them had a lot more control over their powers than Klaus did: able to close the door to the other dimension, keep their powers locked away until they needed them, or just put their weapons down for five minutes. It wasn’t so easy for Klaus. The ghosts were always plaguing him, always around, and there wasn’t much he could do about it except run away from them. Had Five been trying to run away too? Escape from something?</p>
<p>Before he had died, Ben had a moment of clarity in which he realised that everything was slipping away from him. Rather than fighting it, he let go and allowed himself to be taken. He wondered if, as Five had been flung over the balcony, he had a similar moment of clarity. Had he wanted to slip away from it all? That he couldn't fight against the world anymore? The thought made Ben feel sick to his stomach and he decided to keep it to himself. Not use worrying everyone further. </p>
<p>“- take his shoes off,” Allison was still talking, smiling to herself.</p>
<p>“In my defence, I thought my powers only worked if I was barefoot!”</p>
<p>Poor Elliott looked somewhere between intrigued and traumatised. He was scrambling for a marker to scribble something down, probably taking notes on Klaus’ ability for his noticeboard. Studying the photographs of the anomalies in the alleyway out back, Ben realised that this was just another person’s life they’d ruined by crashing directly though it. Elliott had lost his job and his wife, dedicated his entire existence to some so-called aliens sat in his living room. And for what? They all treated him like a joke instead of a friend. </p>
<p>Meanwhile, Vanya seemed to have stopped panicking for five minutes to listen to the conversation. Of course, she wouldn’t remember any of this from their childhood. She wouldn’t remember him, Ben realised suddenly and his stomach lurched. If ghosts could puke...</p>
<p>She leaned forward, looking interested, “Sorry, uh, did we train together? In the academy?”</p>
<p>Both Allison and Klaus froze, uncomfortable with the direction that the conversation was heading in. And Ben decided that was probably his cue to leave, not too keen to watch them stumble over each other as they tried to explain their father’s bizarre parenting methods. Besides, sitting around here waiting for the phone call was starting to drive him crazy. He needed to get out of here.</p>
<p>“I’m gonna go check on Five,” He told Klaus, who barely acknowledged him. </p>
<p>Whatever. It wasn’t like he needed his brother’s permission to do anything or go anywhere. Ben would just pop to the hospital, check up on the others, and then if all was well he could return here and report the news to Klaus. If things had gone badly…</p>
<p>Well, he’d decide what the plan was later.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. The wrong place for redemption</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Luther had been alone before. Growing up, he’d watched his siblings slowly disappear into the big, wide world and consequently leave him behind. It had just been him, Dad, Mom, and Pogo in the house for several years and they had been the loneliest years of his life. Even worse than when he was on the moon, actually, because at least then he’d been able to focus on his poetry, focus on his mission, and not been forced to wander around his big, empty childhood home. There were no childhood memories on the moon. </p><p>This was a different sort of loneliness. He wasn’t even really by himself, since his brother was lying still on the bed next to him and a doctor was examining him carefully. But Luther felt alone and helpless, unable to do anything except sit by and watch.</p><p>Diego had driven them here but hadn’t been allowed inside, told repeatedly by the staff that people <em>like him</em> couldn’t come in here. Quickly, he’d grown frustrated and stormed outside. He was probably still pacing like a caged animal in the parking lot. So, it had fallen on Luther to answer questions from the doctors and nurses- most of which he didn’t know the answer to. If Five was awake, he probably would’ve been rolling his eyes at him.</p><p>“Is he going to be okay?” Luther pounced, as soon as the doctor stood up, “Is his brain-“</p><p>The doctor spoke calmly, “Mr Hargreeves, we don’t know the full extent of the damage yet. All I can tell you is that we suspect broken ribs, probably nothing major in terms of physical damage. We need to ask you a few more questions about what happened.”</p><p>“I told you, he fell down the stairs,” Luther said quickly, “He tripped and fell.”</p><p>“Mr Hargreeves,” He fixed him with a stern look, “I’m sure you understand that a child sustaining these kinds of injuries is a cause for concern. We need to check your brother’s not in any danger at home.”</p><p>It didn’t escape Luther’s notice how the doctor’s gaze lingered on his intimidating upper body, eyeing his injuries from the latest fight. He still had an ugly bruising around his eye and a scar splitting his eyebrow that almost rivalled Diego’s. He guessed how it must look to an outsider. Anxiety throbbed in Luther’s chest as the doctor stared him down and he willed himself to hold steady eye contact with the man.</p><p>“You’re not suggesting I hurt my brother?” Luther’s voice broke.</p><p>Because… because… the truth was that <em>he had hurt him</em>. Not that he had planned to land Five in the hospital by tossing him over the balcony like that- though, he supposed, it sounded completely crazy when he put it like that. To understand what had happened, Luther would have to go back to when they were kids and started training in physical combat at the age of four. It had completely desensitised them to any kind of violence between siblings, especially since they were all more than capable of roughhousing with the best of them. Except Vanya.</p><p>As kids, Luther and Diego had thrown fists at each over the smallest disagreements. Black eyes and bruises had been commonplace. There had been no hesitation from Allison when it came to knocking them down a few pegs, rolling her eyes. Even Klaus had delighted in wrestling his siblings to the ground whenever they tried to snatch his snacks away from him. And Five… Five had blipped out of the way any time somebody charged him. He’d always jumped easily out of the way, shooting them a smug look. Untouchable. Until today.</p><p>Guilt festered in Luther’s stomach. No matter how he tried to rationalise it, this was his fault. He knew that. </p><p>“Now, your younger brother lives with you?” The doctor ignored his question.</p><p>Oh no. If nothing else, (this was a well-known source of humour among his family), Luther was a terrible liar. But there was no way he could tell the medical staff the truth about who Five was, let alone where he’d come from or what had happened to him. Otherwise, he’d be slammed into the nuthouse right alongside Diego. Superheroes from the future; yeah, right. He could feel sweat forming on his forehead.</p><p>“Yes, uh, since our father died,” Well, that wasn’t technically a lie, “Five lives with me.”</p><p>The doctor raised an eyebrow, “Five?”</p><p>“Uh, it’s a nickname,” Luther said quickly, aware that nerves were obvious in his voice, “Yeah, it’s short for, uh, Fitzgerald. Dad was a big fan of <em>The Great Gatsby</em>?”</p><p>The last sentence came out as more of a question than an answer. He was just grateful that none of his siblings were here to watch him bluster his way through this and for the nurse who came back into the room to check on Five’s vitals. It took the heat off him for a second. Luther watched, feeling a little bit useless, and prayed silently that his older-younger brother would wake up soon. It was the waiting and not-knowing that was the hardest. Like when Allison had been unconscious in their home infirmary.</p><p>Oh, <em>shit</em>. Allison. His siblings. They’d be worried sick if they didn’t hear anything.</p><p>“Please, look, I just need to know he’s going to be okay,” Luther pleaded, “I’ve already lost one brother. I can’t afford to lose another one.”</p><p>“Mr Hargreeves, he’s in no immediate danger. His vitals look good: a healthy teenager despite a few recent injuries,” The doctor, still looking suspicious, assured him, “All we can do at this point is wait.”</p><p>Irritated, Luther wondered if a modern doctor would’ve said the same thing or it was outdated 60s medical advice. All they could do was wait? He’d never actually been to a hospital before, all his injuries and illnesses being treated at home by Grace. Was it normal to just wait around and <em>see what happened</em>? Sure, Five didn't seem to be at death's door right now, but what if something was deeply wrong and the doctor wasn’t advanced enough to pick up on it? It was only 1963. And what if the doctor wasn’t giving Luther the full story because he didn’t trust him? </p><p>He vaguely remembered learning in history class that doctors used to give patients cocaine and brandy to help them feel better. Luther suddenly wished he’d paid more attention to dates.</p><p>Even though the doctor didn’t trust him to be alone with Five, at least he didn’t try and push Luther out of the room. They let him sit on the too-small plastic chair beside the hospital bed, chewing anxiously on his fingernails as the staff fussed over Five. It was a habit he thought he’d kicked in childhood- apparently, Luther wasn’t as grown as he thought. All the time, as he watched, only the steady rise and fall of Five’s chest indicated that he was still alive. The boy looked so small in a hospital gown. </p><p>His fingers didn’t twitch. His eyes didn’t snap open. He was just… There.</p><p>If it wasn’t for his pale complexion and dishevelled look, Luther would’ve said he looked peaceful. And peaceful wasn’t usually a word that was associated with Five. He’d been stressed beyond belief ever since he’d returned from the apocalypse, always fighting, running, and shouting. Actually, now that he thought about it, Luther couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen his brother rest. When he had been drunk and snoring in Diego’s boiler room perhaps?</p><p>The only time Luther left his side was when he realised he couldn’t put off calling his family any longer. He excused himself to go find a phone. Surprisingly, even though it was starting to get dark outside, someone called out his name in a low voice and Diego slipped out of the shadows of the building. He looked as drained as Luther felt.</p><p>Luther stared at him in shock, “What are you doing, sneaking around like that?”</p><p>“I’m a wanted man, remember?” Diego replied flippantly, “Thought one of these assholes might recognise me. I knew you’d come out sooner or later. Wait… where’s Five?”</p><p>He peered behind Luther, as if he was expecting his brother to be hiding behind him. He expected Five to be fully recovered from his fall and back to rant about the apocalypse to them like he always did. As ridiculous as it was, they were all used to Five bouncing back from injuries as if they were nothing- after all, he didn’t survive the apocalypse by crying over spilt milk. When he realised that Five wasn’t there, Diego first looked confused, then fear flashed across his face.</p><p>“He’s okay, he’s okay,” Luther assured him in a rush, feeling bad that he hadn’t said so immediately, “They, uh… Well, he’s still not responsive. No permanent damage, they think.”</p><p>“They <em>think</em>?” Diego’s hot temper flared up, “I’ll let them know what I think if they don’t-“</p><p>Despite his wanted status, his brother started to storm towards the double doors and Luther had to grab hold of him quickly to stop him from doing anything he’d regret. He stood there with his arms wrapped tightly around Diego’s shoulders, as the man growled furiously and tried to push past him. From experience, Luther knew that he had to wait for his brother to calm down again before he could risk releasing him; otherwise, he’d end up on the warpath. For a few more minutes, Diego struggled against his grip and muttered angrily to himself under his breath: Threats. Promises. More threats. </p><p>Eventually, Diego cooled down and went limp in his arms. When Luther released him, he could’ve sworn that there were tears in his brother’s eyes but when he blinked, they were gone again. He must’ve imagined it. Diego was still glowering, like he used to as a kid when Dad had sent him to bed without dessert for carving his initials on furniture. It was the same childish look on his face. </p><p>“I’m trying to find out what I can but they’re suspicious of me,” Luther said, “The doctor obviously thinks that Five’s from some kind of abusive home and that I did this to him.”</p><p>His younger brother snorted, “Right on both counts. What about injuries?”</p><p>“Broken ribs, probably. No other obvious injuries. I guess he got lucky.”</p><p>“Yeah, lucky,” Diego said snidely.</p><p>Luther couldn't resist scowling at him, “If you’re going to be like this, why don’t you just go home, Diego?”</p><p>“Because he’s my brother too, Luther!” He threw up his hands in frustration, “Five is my brother too and I care about him. And I wa-watched Eudora d-die, I w-wa-watched Mom die, and spent three m-months thinking you w-we-were all de-de-dead,” Diego cleared his throat, “So, excuse me if I need a minute to pr-process today’s events.”</p><p>For a moment, Diego just glared up at him but there wasn’t just anger raging in his eyes. There was sadness there too, a deep sadness that Luther hadn’t really noticed before, and this time, there were definitely tears as Diego turned on his heel and stalked away. Of course, it had been hard on him. It was hard on all of them. Watching Five crumple like a rag doll on the floor at <em>Morty's</em> had been shocking and terrifying. And Luther hadn't even stopped to think about the people that his brother had lost. About the people he was still scared of losing. The guilt inside Luther continued to eat away at him.</p><p>“Diego!” He called after him.</p><p>His brother stopped on the sidewalk, his hands still clenched into fists at his sides. It occurred to Luther that a year ago, (or three months ago depending on your perspective), Diego would’ve just kept walking rather than listen to him. Maybe they really did have a better relationship now. As kids, they’d butted heads over everything and went out of their way to piss each other off. Only now was he beginning to realise how much of that was due to Dad pitting them against each other…</p><p>Luther paused, forcing the words out, “I’m glad you’re here.”</p><p>And it was the truth. Over the years, as the team had gradually drifted apart, Luther had watched his siblings leave him behind one-by-one and accepted it. He’d never raced to catch up with them because he thought he was better off without most of them. That he didn't need them. Only once they’d gone had he realised how unbearable the loneliness was- especially on the moon, watching solitary comets shoot across the sky. He was glad not to be alone. Damn it, he was glad to be with Diego.</p><p>As he watched, Diego’s shoulders relaxed and he turned around slowly. The look on his face was hard to read, not quite forgiveness but not resentment either. His frustrated expression had softened and he seemed to be mulling over the words. Because if Luther was bad with feelings, his brother was even worse.</p><p>“Thanks, man,” Diego said, finally, “I’ll call the others and tell them what’s going on.”</p><p>Luther nodded to him, job complete, and watched his brother skulk back into the shadows to find a nearby phone box. He was glad to pass off the task, since he had no idea what to say to his family and he already felt guilty about leaving Five alone. As he shuffled back through the double doors, Luther remembered how confusing and frightening it had been for him to wake up alone after the accident. How he’d screamed in fear. The memory would stick with him forever.</p><p>As rocky as his relationship with Five was, Luther couldn’t bare the idea of his twin going through the same experience. Not when he’d been through so much already.</p><p>He realised that he was rushing back to his brother’s room, taking long strides past the curious stares of patients and nurses, as if he was going against the clock. As if he was racing to get there in time for- what? It could be hours before they knew what was wrong with Five, it could be days or weeks even before he came back round. But still, Luther walked fast. Something just felt… Off. He was probably just tired or stressed or both but-</p><p>When he got back to Five’s room, the doctor seemed even less pleased to see him. It was as if he had been hoping that Luther wouldn’t come back. Opening his mouth to say something, Luther paused when the concern in the doctor’s eyes threw him suddenly off-kilter. He was right, something <em>was</em> wrong. Quickly, Luther pushed his way past a nurse to his brother’s bedside and stared down at where Five was lying there, as emotionless as where he left him. Except… His eyes were open.</p><p>Luther touched his brother on the arm uncertainly, “Five?”</p><p>No response. Five didn’t even blink, his eyes unfocused and glassy.</p><p>“Five? Five, it’s me, Luther. I’m right here with you.”</p><p><em>Nothing</em>.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Impatient they start, fearful they end</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>With trembling fingers, Vanya flipped the lighter she’d borrowed open and watched the flame sputter to life. In the darkness of the alley, the dim flicker bathed her shaky hands in a soft yellow glow and when she touched it to the tip of the cigarette dangling from her mouth, it caught easily. Vanya tucked the lighter away and took a long drag, closing her eyes and imagining for a second that she was still back on the farm with Sissy. That the last 48 hours were a bizarre dream.</p>
<p>When her eyes opened again, she was disappointed to find herself still in the alleyway behind Commerce and Knox- and she wasn’t alone. Bristling to her left drew her attention and she turned to see her new brother, Klaus, had sloped out of the door behind her. He seemed amused that she was smoking and although she’d only just met him, Vanya found his grin reassuring.</p>
<p>“Tough day, Vanny?” He drawled, “You always used to tell me that smoking kills.”</p>
<p>Vanya tipped her head back to look up at the sky, “New timeline, new me.”</p>
<p>That made him wheeze with laughter, gesturing and muttering wildly to someone that only he could see. Right. The ghosts. Absentmindedly, Vanya wondered if they followed him everywhere he went and what they whispered privately in his ears. How did he deal with that? Actually… She wondered how her family coped with all of the crazy things in their lives, full stop. </p>
<p>“Were me and Five…” Vanya trailed off, searching for the word, “Close?” </p>
<p>She blew smoke upwards, watching it drift away into the night, and then lowered her chin to look at her brother. A look of confusion flashed briefly across Klaus’ face before a sympathetic expression replaced it, making him look positively doe-like. For a few minutes, he seemed to consider her question and how to answer it, waving a hand around vaguely as if he was literally gathering his thoughts. Then, Klaus plucked the cigarette from her hand.</p>
<p>“Like peanut butter and jam when we were kids,” He smoked with the intensity of an addict, “Chunky peanut butter, really. Sort of lumpy and hard to swallow. Five isn’t exactly the easiest to get along with. But he always had a soft spot for you, favourite sibling and all that.” </p>
<p>This confirmed Vanya’s lingering suspicions. </p>
<p>She knew little about her siblings so far, aside from the gaps that they’d filled in for her: seven siblings, abusive father, and absurd superpowers. Mostly, she only had her first impressions to go on. Luther seemed apologetic, a little sensitive, but overall big brotherly. Whereas Diego was much more guarded, Allison was warm and friendly, and Klaus seemed sweet but a little wild. As for Five… He was frantic, controlling, and kind of an asshole.</p>
<p>“He wasn’t exactly subtle about his favouritism,” Klaus added, chuckling, “Got that from Dad.”</p>
<p>But from the moment he’d introduced himself as her brother, Vanya had felt a burst of warmth for Five. Even if she couldn’t remember him, she immediately knew that the kid was somebody that she cared a great deal about. Somebody important to her. Which is why it had physically hurt to see his crumpled form, lying unmoving on the marble floor, picked up and rushed away to hospital. It had upset her so much that she hadn’t been able to form words. </p>
<p>In that moment, Vanya knew that they must’ve been close once upon a time. She wondered if there were memories locked away in her mind of when they’d played together as kids, read the same books, and snuck into the kitchen together to steal snacks. A feeling of loss flashed rapidly though her mind, so quick that she couldn’t grab hold of it, and Vanya wondered with a shiver why Five looked so much younger than the rest of them. What had happened to him? </p>
<p>“You said when were kids,” Vanya kept her gaze fixed downwards, “Did I hurt him too?”</p>
<p>Klaus frowned, “What? Oh no, no, no, no- <em>Vanya</em>. You wouldn’t hurt a fly, even one as annoying as Five. No, he ran away. For seventeen years actually, give or take.” </p>
<p>That explained the deep-seated feelings of anxiety that bubbled to the surface whenever she thought of Five. Even if she didn’t understand how he could go missing for so long and still look like an adolescent boy: she put that down to his time travel schtick. In her past life, Vanya must’ve worried herself sick after he went missing. She wondered if she’d pasted flyers onto lampposts or gone out looking for him after dark. She wondered if she had waited patiently for him to come home. She wondered if she had presumed, finally, that he must be dead. Mourned the loss. </p>
<p>Maybe they had all thought him dead: Vanya had foggy memories of a funeral. </p>
<p>She remembered what Klaus had said upstairs, about being able to summon ghosts, “After he was… You know, gone, uh, did you ever try to summon him?”A dark expression flickered across her brother’s face, the cheerful light in his eyes dying down abruptly. All the colour drained out of his face in an instant, as if somebody had turned down the saturation on a TV. The cigarette hung idly from his bottom lip, forgotten, and then Klaus let it fall onto the ground so he could crush it under the heel of his boot. He opened his mouth.</p>
<p>“Klaus? Vanya?” The door behind them opened and Elliott stuck his head out, “Sorry to bother you but you need to come right away. There’s another phone call for you.” </p>
<p>They exchanged frowns, Klaus still pale as a ghost, and then followed the strange man inside.</p>
<p>Even without his response, Vanya knew the answer to her question: yes, Klaus had tried. No, it hadn’t worked. Yes, he had probably blamed himself for seventeen years. After only a few hours with her siblings, it was obvious that her family had more issues than the <em>Dallas Morning News</em> and Vanya had just as many hidden behind the amnesiac block in her mind. But there wasn’t time to ponder the matter any further. The phone was ringing. </p>
<p>Vanya jogged up the stairs, “Is it Diego? Is he coming home?”</p>
<p>Already, they’d had the promised phone call from their other brother, Diego. He was staked out by the hospital, waiting for news, and had finally rang home with the earth-shattering news that Five was still unconscious. Harbouring some injuries, yes, but okay for the most part. Diego’s working theory was that Five’s fit of hysterical laughter was either some kind of shock or the result of a brain injury. Unlike Vanya, he seemed more frustrated than he was worried. </p>
<p>Elliott just shook his head, mumbling, and gestured over to where Allison was clinging to the phone like a lifeline. She was huddled over it, the receiver pressed close to her ear, and her eyes were wide with… What? Fear? Shock? Vanya couldn’t be sure. </p>
<p>“They’re here now,” Allison said, moving the receiver so they could all lean in, “It’s Diego.”</p>
<p>“What’s the diagnosis, doc?” Klaus joked. </p>
<p>His voice was full of fear. It seemed that his carefreeness was a mask to an extent, covering up whatever he was really feeling or thinking. For the first time, Vanya wondered why he had shown up to the family meeting completely wasted- despite it being in the middle of the day. She’d assumed that Klaus and Allison had just been celebrating their reunion but now she wondered if it was a symptom of a larger issue running beneath the surface. </p>
<p>She’d have to check her brother was okay, once they had a few minutes. </p>
<p>There was a growl on the other end of the phone, “Now isn’t a good time for jokes, Klaus. Something’s seriously wrong with Five. He’s in a ‘catastrophic’ state.”</p>
<p>A pause as they all tried to process this. Klaus was frowning, one hand rubbing at his chin like a cartoon did when they were thinking (it probably would’ve been funny in other circumstances but he wasn’t trying to make them laugh). Despite them being adopted, Allison was wearing the exact same confused expression and glanced at them both. Vanya shrugged at her, no clearer. </p>
<p>“What do you mean ‘catastrophic’?” Allison demanded. </p>
<p>On the other end of the line, there was a sigh. Diego was already frustrated by the whole situation and seemed to be growing more so, the longer he spent at the hospital. There was another pause, probably as he tried to remember what Luther had told him, and Vanya pictured him with his eyebrows knitted together. She wondered if Diego was as tired as she was. </p>
<p>“You know… Awake but not talking or moving? Like a vegetable,” He explained.</p>
<p>“I don’t think that’s politically correct,” Vanya frowned. </p>
<p>Allison let out an exasperated sigh, “Diego, do you mean catatonic?” </p>
<p>That made more sense. Frantically, Vanya tried to think of what ‘catatonic’ meant and her soggy memories supplied images from films she’d seen: people staring blankly, unmoving, not responding to anyone. As if their mind had run away and left their body behind. Oh. Flinching, Vanya remembered how her brother had flopped against the floor as if he was made of jell-o and hadn’t so much as blinked as Luther shook him by the shoulder. </p>
<p>Was that, like… a medical thing? Could doctors treat it? She wasn’t sure and she got the impression that asking Diego would just piss him off even more. It didn’t seem like he was a big fan of hers to begin with. Vanya didn’t want to make the situation any more stressful than it already was, so she elected to keep her mouth shut and just listen. </p>
<p>“That’s what I said,” Their brother said defensively, “A catatonic state.”</p>
<p>Klaus mused, “I always thought Five was more of a dog person.”</p>
<p>Clearly, this conversation wasn’t going anywhere. As she’d suspected, Diego didn’t know any more information, only that their brother was physically stable and mentally absent. Apparently, according to Luther anyway, Five had been ‘awake’ for just under an hour now. He’d just stared at the ceiling and refused to <em>(couldn’t?)</em> acknowledge anything going on around him. It was as if he’d just mentally checked out.</p>
<p>When Allison hung up the phone, they’d all just stood there. It was as if her other siblings had gone into shock too, Klaus staring blankly at the phone and Allison slowly folding her arms across her chest. She seemed to be trying to ground herself. Peeking at them, Vanya didn’t know whether she should try and comfort them or not. She cleared her throat. </p>
<p>Both her siblings looked at her expectantly.</p>
<p>“I need to go and see him,” Vanya said, the plan solidifying in her mind as soon as she said it out loud, “Look, Five needs me there. I can help-“</p>
<p>Klaus shook his head, wordlessly, a sad expression on his face. He sat down on the couch.</p>
<p>“No, you don’t understand: I’m a nanny for this boy, he has episodes. I help him, I could help Five too- I could-“ She faltered, seeing the pitying looks that she was receiving. </p>
<p>Defeated, Vanya sunk onto the couch beside her brother and fidgeted with her hands. She knew, really, that whatever had happened to Five wasn’t like Harlan’s episodes. But she really did believe she could help. If her and Five were as close as their brother said, maybe it would help to have her nearby. Maybe she could hold his hand until he woke up properly.</p>
<p>It must be scary, Vanya thought, to be lying there alone in a hospital bed. A half-formed memory darts through her mind of herself in a bathtub, sitting naked and vulnerable with her knees pulled up to her chest as a man sponged blood from her shaking hands. She had been… So scared. But she had no idea, who the man was, or whose blood had been on her hands. </p>
<p>“We can’t do anything right now,” Allison soothed. </p>
<p>It sounded like she was trying to reassure herself just as much as them. </p>
<p>Klaus, who was resting his head in his hands, looked up, “Well, you could always try your old rumour trick.” </p>
<p>For some reason, this comment seemed to upset Allison and she looked away. She was shaking her head, as if to say ‘no’, but Vanya had no idea what either of them were talking about. It was probably something from her old life, something they hadn’t bothered to catch her up on, and she assumed that she probably didn’t want to know. Not if it upset her sister like that. </p>
<p>Instead of replying, Allison suggested that they should all try and get some rest. There was a guest bedroom, which one of them could take, but Vanya didn’t like the idea of sleeping in a strange bed at all. She knew that she probably wouldn’t be able to get any sleep. Absentmindedly, Vanya hoped that Elliott had some good books (hopefully some that didn’t feature aliens or conspiracies) to pass the time. She missed her bed at the farm.</p>
<p>So, Allison disappeared into the guest room. Klaus volunteered to crash on the couch, right there in the front room, and Vanya waited until he was snoring. Luckily, her brother seemed to be exhausted and conked out almost immediately. He mumbled to himself a lot in his sleep. </p>
<p>Once her siblings (and Elliott) were asleep, Vanya borrowed a jacket and slipped outside to find a phone booth. For some reason, it felt important to keep her call to Sissy private. She didn’t know what her new family would think of their friendship but she knew that most people in Dallas disliked it when two women were so close. They often called those women nasty words. Whenever she heard people talk like that, Vanya wanted to press her hands over her ears. </p>
<p>Vanya dialled with shaking fingers, “Hello, Sissy? I’m sorry to call so late…”</p>
<p>“Oh my god, Vanya! I’m so glad you’re okay,” There was audible relief in the woman’s voice. </p>
<p>A warm feeling blossomed in her chest, making her tingle all over.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Break the surface tension</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Sorry that this is so late! I've been so focused on IRL stuff lately that I haven't had time to update most of my fics. But I hope this chapter is enjoyable?</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It had been a rollercoaster of a week for Elliott Gussman.</p><p>Not only had all the anomalies, (which he’d charted over the years), arrived on his doorstep, they were indeed some kind of extraterrestrials with magnificent abilities. The boy could manipulate time and space, the rugged one always hit his targets, and, if they were to be believed, the quiet one could drain the life out of people with energy tentacles. Elliott only wished his ex-wife was here to see this: she was the kind of person who needed to see to believe.</p><p>When he entered the main room, expecting to see at least one of the Hargreeves, he was surprised to find it empty. There was no sign of the small, reserved woman who had opted to sleep on the couch. She must’ve slipped away early this morning- or very late last night. Elliott hoped that she’d return soon, so that he could ask her questions without her brothers cutting over her. He’d love to learn more about her abilities, maybe even get a demonstration, but only if she was comfortable. </p><p>“Come on, come on, where’s the booze?” The closet door was ajar and somebody was rummaging around inside of it.</p><p>Curiously, Elliott peered around the door to see what was happening. It was the weird one, the one who saw the dead, and he was rifling through the closet urgently in his search for alcohol. Still dressed in his rumpled clothes, the anomaly looked a little worse for wear and was muttering quietly to himself as he threw down an empty bottle in disappointment. His name was… Klaus, Elliott remembered. Klaus huffed in frustration and spun around, gasping in surprise.</p><p>His hand flew to his chest, his eyes wide, “You nearly killed me again! Heart attacks run in the family, I’ll have you know. That’s how daddy dearest finally kicked the bucket.”</p><p>“Sorry, sorry,” Elliott took a step back, “I didn’t mean to scare you.”</p><p>Klaus laughed wheezily, “It takes a little more than that to scare little ole me.”</p><p>Right, that would make sense, considering the fact he regularly convened with ghosts. It couldn't exactly be pleasant. And despite his love for hyperbole, Elliott wouldn’t be surprised if there was some truth in Klaus dying once before. He seemed like the type to step on a landmine because he wasn’t paying attention. In fact, even as he exited the closet, Klaus clumsily tripped and stumbled over his own feet. If he hadn’t caught himself quickly on the doorframe, he probably would’ve hit the floor.</p><p>“Where’s Vanny?” Klaus plucked a cigarette from his pocket.</p><p>He seemingly realised Elliott’s confusion and nodded in the direction of the couch. Vanya was the name of the quiet woman, he recalled, and Vanny must be a nickname. He’d never had siblings of his own but Elliott imagined they were probably pretty close to refer to each other like that- the closest he’d ever gotten to a nickname was taunting on the school playground.</p><p>Elliott shrugged, “I thought you’d know.”</p><p>“Shit,” He murmured, taking a drag of his cigarette, “You’re right, she could be halfway across Dallas by now. Vanya can handle hersel- alright, alright.”</p><p>In what was frequently becoming the norm, Klaus seemed to be arguing with some invisible spectre lingering by the coffee machine. No matter how much Elliott squinted at the spot, he couldn’t make out anything. The idea of ghosts hanging around his home gave him the heebie-jeebies to think about. But Klaus just tossed his head, shaking out his head of curls, and slid his red sunglasses onto his nose. He fingered the dog tags around his neck thoughtfully.</p><p>“Let’s roll, Roswell.”</p><p>It took Elliott a moment to realise that the man was talking to him.</p><p>Despite his protests, fifteen minutes later Elliott found himself trailing anxiously after the other man. His pupils flickered nervously between people, too preoccupied by his fears to pay attention to how Klaus was ambling absentmindedly down the street and calling out for his sister. It seemed that there was no real plan to track down Vanya- only that her brother hoped to stumble into her if he walked far enough and shouted her name loudly enough.</p><p>“Hey, hey, hey-“ Klaus approached a passerby, slowing them in their tracks, “Have you seen my little sister? About yay high, brown hair, looks gay but we haven’t had the talk yet- no, okay, that’s- that’s rude…”</p><p>The woman he approached gave them a wary look as she crossed the street to escape Klaus’ questions. It did little to deter him from approaching the next person, then the next. Elliott, who was mortified by the way the man spoke to strangers as if they were old friends, hung back and sifted through the few facts he had. The way he saw it, there were two likely options: either Vanya had returned to wherever she was staying or gone to the hospital where her brother was recovering.</p><p>If she had amnesia, like she had mentioned in passing yesterday, it seemed unlikely that the latter was true. Still, it was a better start than anywhere else.</p><p>“I knew you were a smart one,” Klaus grinned at his suggestion, “Vanya and Fivey were always close. Even when we were little kids. Until he ran away and got stuck in the future.”</p><p>He glanced to his left, as if he were listening to someone else. The unnatural break in the conversation felt awkward.  </p><p>“There’s a bus stop around the corner-“</p><p>“I, uh, could’ve told you that,” Elliott interjected, feeling a bit useless.</p><p>Klaus pressed his hands together as if he were praying, “Look, can I borrow some cash?”</p><p>Elliott blinked at him.</p><p>“For the bus,” Klaus clarified quickly, "I'm clean. Just broke."</p><p>When the bus arrived, Elliott had no problem forking over the money for two bus tickets and occupying the aisle seat nervously. He couldn’t stop his knee from bouncing up and down as the bus lurched forward. It wasn’t just that leaving the house made him paranoid, (although it definitely did), but also that Klaus seemed a bit of a loose canon. All the anomalies were, of course, but him exceptionally so. At least when Elliott had been helping out Five, the kid had been logical and predictable. He had been able to understand what made the man tick. </p><p>Until that nasty fall. That had seemed completely out-of-character for the boy and had consequently shaken the entire family to its core. Even he had been shocked: Elliott had grown fond of the kid in the short time they'd known each other. </p><p>Maybe it wasn’t just Klaus’ strangeness that was making him nervous about this particular trip. Maybe the idea of seeing the young man in the hospital weighed heavy on his shoulders, even if he didn’t know him that well. Not to mention that he hadn’t been to a hospital recently, not since his dad had passed away. The smell of antiseptic usually made him feel sick to his stomach.</p><p>“Where’d you fight?” Elliott asked, his mouth feeling dry.</p><p>Klaus, who was resting heavily on the seat in front of him, lifted his head and glanced at him blearily. Confusion was splashed across his face. Helpfully, Elliott nodded to the dog tags that hung around the man’s neck- they’d been drawing his attention ever since the two of them had been introduced. The man often toyed with them, a faraway expression on his face, and it reminded Elliott of his father. </p><p>“Oh, uh, Vietnam,” Klaus’ eyes glazed over and a bittersweet smile touched his lips, “More of a lover than a fighter myself but things don’t always work out the way you plan.”</p><p>The expression on his face was difficult to read but his eyes were sad. He stared out the window.</p><p>He must’ve been discharged, Elliott thought, otherwise he’d probably still be on his tour. Maybe Klaus had been injured, shot somewhere that made him useless to the army. People used to shoot themselves in the foot in order to escape from the trenches. Or maybe he’d seen something awful enough out there that he’d been deemed too traumatised to carry on. Something that had broken him inside. Some awful things went on during war.</p><p>Lowering his voice, Elliott leaned forward, “Is it true they’re holding US soldiers hostage out there? Folks are talking around here.”</p><p>Unusually, Klaus didn’t respond. He just continued looking out the window, watching the houses glide past, and Elliott got the distinct impression that he was buried in his memories. The faraway look in his eyes was familiar; Elliott’s father had started doing that after he’d returned from serving. He knew that expression was a sign that someone was away with their thoughts. When the bus reached their stop, however, Klaus blinked and there was a familiar sparkle in his eyes.</p><p>It was as if he’d snapped back into his persona, pushing all the sadness back under the surface.</p><p>“Come on, let’s find Vanya and ask her what’s going on,” Klaus rolled his shoulders back, clicking his neck as if he was psyching himself up for a fight, “And if anyone asks, you’re family. Little ole Roswell Hargreeves.”</p><p>He didn’t really give Elliott the chance to disagree.</p><hr/><p>Sunlight broke through the curtains, prompting Allison to turn over to bury her face in the pillow. Back in LA, she’d always boasted being a morning person with her breakfast Instagram posts and early work schedule. But since coming to Dallas, she’d grown used to long mornings in bed with her husband whenever they could get away from it and being woken up by gentle kisses. Now, Allison was startled awake suddenly when her knee made contact with somebody else’s leg.</p><p>“Fuck,” grumbled the other person lowly, “Allie, that hurt.”</p><p>Her eyes flew open and her hands clenched into fists, ready to defend herself. Instinct from her years of training, she supposed. After a few seconds of blind panic, however, Allison realised that it was just her stupid brother lying next to her. Still dressed in his red shirt and jeans, Diego had seemingly only kicked off his boots before crawling onto the guest bed next to her. He, apparently, still drooled in his sleep- gross.</p><p>“Diego?!” Allison smacked him lightly on the arm, “I thought you were a serial killer. Jesus!”</p><p>He opened one eye blearily, “Serial killer Jesus? That’s a new one.”</p><p>“And you thought grammar lessons were a waste of time,” Allison rolled her eyes and pushed herself up into a sitting position, “When did you get here?”</p><p>As usual, her brother didn’t reward her question with an answer straight away. Instead, he sat up with a groan and pressed one hand tenderly to his abdomen as if he was nursing cramps. She wondered idly what trouble he’d gotten into after escaping the mental institution and how on earth he’d managed to get himself injured in such a short space of time. No matter. Allison was no longer phased by her brother’s tendency to run headfirst into trouble. Diego stretched his arms above his head, his breath hissing between his teeth, and glanced back at her.</p><p>“Early this morning, after I broke into the hospital to check on Five,” Diego scratched the back of his neck, “Klaus was out cold on the couch.”</p><p>Allison frowned, “And Vanya?”</p><p>“No sign of her,” Her brother shrugged, “Luther took the other couch and I didn’t want to watch him wallow in self-pity all night.”</p><p>She tossed a pillow at him and, despite not having his magical aim, succeeded in hitting Diego square in the face. It was childish, she knew that, but if her brothers were going to bicker like children all the time, they deserved to be treated as such. Diego just scowled at her and stalked out of the room, probably just grumpy from staying out all night.</p><p>By Allison’s estimation, it was still morning and a peek at the clock on the bedside table confirmed as much. Which was why she was surprised to see no sign of her siblings anywhere as she crossed the hallway to the bathroom and took a lukewarm shower. Since she hadn’t planned to stay the night, Allison didn’t bring any spare clothes with her but found a few outfits left behind by Elliott’s ex-wife in his closet. Once she was dressed in a simple plaid skirt and blouse, (her hair tamed into a ponytail), Allison felt a little better than she did yesterday.</p><p>She found Diego in the main room, knife in hand and inspecting the coffee table for clues. There was still no sign of any of their other siblings- Five was in the hospital but the rest couldn’t be accounted for. Even the man who owned the apartment, Elliott, had vanished into thin air. It was worrying that Vanya hadn't been there early this morning when Diego had snuck in, especially considering her dramatic memory loss. </p><p>“Maybe those Norwegian guys kidnapped them,” Diego didn’t look up at her entrance.</p><p>Allison raised an eyebrow, incredulously, “What Norwegian guys?”</p><p>“You think there’d be signs of a struggle though,” Her brother flipped his knife and caught it with ease, repeating the action a few times as he spoke, “Luther would’ve put up a fight. Unless they got him in his sleep...”</p><p>“You’re starting to sound like Five,” Allison went to the kitchen and put a pot of coffee on, “Maybe there’s no big mystery here. Maybe they just went to visit our brother- you know, the one in the hospital?”</p><p>Quietly, Diego grumbled to himself but stopped pacing and collapsed onto the couch instead. He resumed playing with his knife, catching it every single time he tossed it in the air, and seemed to relax a little. Albeit, reluctantly. Allison made two cups of coffee, turning on the radio and humming along to the song that was playing as she did so. She couldn’t resist a few twists and twirls around the kitchen before picking up the mugs and retiring to the couch.</p><p>Her brother took the coffee from her gratefully and stared into it. If she didn’t know him better, Allison would suspect that her brother was thinking deeply about something or other. More likely, he was just planning his next attack on Lee Harvey Oswald.</p><p>“You said you broke into the hospital,” Allison said, carefully, “How did he look?”</p><p>Diego’s hands shook a little, “… Small. Like a kid.”</p><p>“Was he… Did you talk to him?”</p><p>“No,” Slowly, Diego shook his head, “His eyes were open but he wasn’t… Awake.”</p><p>Just picturing Five in a state like that sucked all the good mood out of Allison. It didn’t help that she wasn’t able to visit him, since the hospital didn’t allow “coloureds” inside and pleading that she was family definitely wouldn’t work. If Ray wouldn’t believe her about her siblings, there was no way that hospital administrative staff would. Oh, god… Raymond. She’d completely forgotten about him and that her marriage, yet again, was on the verge of collapse.</p><p>Allison wondered if she should go and see him. After all, if the world really was going to end in a few days, she might as well spend the rest of her days with her husband. Or her family? It had all gotten so confusing since Klaus had turned up. Where was Klaus anyway?</p><p>“I’m going to call the hospital,” Allison got up, “See if they’re there.”</p><p>Her brother didn’t respond, just watching as she made her way to the phonebook and looked up the number of the front desk. The receptionist picked up on the third ring and, after some wheedling, confirmed that Mr “Fitzgerald” (what had Luther been thinking?) Hargreeves indeed had some visitors this morning. Two young women had come by with a boy, one blonde and one with mousy brown hair. Yes, the mousy one had been called Vanya. That news caused Allison to let out a breath she hadn't realised she'd been holding, her chest loosening so that she could breathe a little easier. </p><p>No, there were no signs of a very large man or an unwashed man with long brown hair.</p><p>Allison put down the phone on the receiver, “Well, I’ve tracked down Vanya. She’s at the hospital with Five.”</p><p>“No surprises there,” Diego mumbled, fiddling with his knife, “The others?”</p><p>“God knows where they could be,” Allison grabbed her cardigan off the back of the couch and slipped it on, “But I can’t just sit around here all day and wait. My husband already thinks I’m some kind of undercover communist spy-“</p><p>Diego snorted with laughter. The idea was pretty ridiculous but not as insane as the truth. </p><p>“I have to go home,” She continued, “At least for a little while.”</p><p>“Wait, wait, wait, what about me?” Diego sat up, “Our siblings are still missing.”</p><p>Maybe Lee Harvey Oswald wasn’t the only thing on his mind.</p><p>Sighing, Allison walked over to where their appearances had been documented in great detail by Elliott. There was a stack of documents, some newspaper clippings and flyers, which she rifled around in until she found what she wanted. Allison plucked a pamphlet from the pile and returned to Diego, thrusting the leaflet with their brother’s face on at him. On the back, there was an address in Dallas and an encouragement to seek enlightenment there.</p><p>It made Diego laugh again, in disbelief, and the sound surprised her. It had been so long since she had seen him, let alone heard him laugh, Allison realised, and she had missed him a great deal more than she thought. Even if he was a total idiot sometimes.</p><p>“Go find Klaus,” She told him, “And Diego?”</p><p>He looked up at her, amused look still on his face, “Yeah?”</p><p>“Don’t get yourself killed.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Turn back the tide that drew him</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>The rest of Vanya's "conversation" with Five is in the previous fic in this series.</p><p>Yes, Diego is canonically Jewish. No, I won't shut up about it.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>After staying late at the hospital, Luther had expected to crash as soon as his head hit the pillow, (or couch cushion to be more accurate). His eyelids felt heavy, his body felt as if it were being dragged down into the earth, and his brain had turned to mush- yet, he couldn’t get to sleep. Guilt had burrowed itself deep inside him and, no matter what he tried, he couldn’t dig it out. Every time Luther closed his eyes, he saw his brother lying in the hospital bed.</p><p>Barely an hour passed before Luther gave up on sleep altogether, watching Klaus toss and turn on the other couch. His older brother- <em>and wasn’t that weird to think about? </em>- mumbled to himself, a deep frown on his face, but didn’t show any signs of waking. Briefly, Luther considered prodding him awake but dismissed the idea immediately: he didn’t want to bother anyone. Offloading the burden of guilt just wasn’t an option tonight.</p><p>Instead, Luther peeled himself off the couch and went searching for his sneakers. It had been a while since he had gone for a run. The sun was starting to climb over the horizon, barely light enough to be considered morning, but he just pulled on a hoodie to keep out the cold. He let himself out through the back door and quickly set off down the road, his sneakers pounding against the asphalt.</p><p>He didn’t know or care where he was going. It was about the running, pushing through the burning feeling it brought on, and ignoring the protests from his lungs.</p><p>Jack always warned him not to push himself too hard but Luther took his words with a pinch of salt. After all, his strength was superhuman and his body wasn’t anywhere near as vulnerable as the average person’s. As a child, his father had pushed him to his limits again and again and Luther had always managed to succeed in overcoming them. He had vague memories of hitting the training room floor with a thump and Reginald’s criticisms sounding like the buzz of bees.</p><p>Jack Ruby had joked about caring for him like a son. About him being his ‘number one guy’. Luther had to force a smile and bury his memories of his own father.</p><p>His relationship with Five hadn’t been any less complicated than his one with his father- they’d rubbed each other the wrong way as kids, with Luther being keen to stick to the rules laid out for them and Five doing his best to bend them. Often, on missions, they’d argued with each other about what their next move should be. Five prioritised victory above all else, jumping ahead of the rest of them, but Luther thought they should do what was best for the whole team.</p><p>At the same time, Luther had secretly longed to be closer. He’d read about twins with supposedly psychic connections, able to know each other’s thoughts, and those who couldn’t bear to be apart without feeling ripped down the middle. Him and Five weren’t… Like that. They weren’t remotely close. Finding out that they were twins had been a shock to the whole family. Klaus had laughed so hard he'd fallen over. </p><p>Now, though, Luther found himself wondering. Something inside him felt broken, as if a string had snapped, and Luther wasn’t sure if it was just his own guilt. When he had stared at Five, looking small and helpless on the hospital bed, it felt for a moment like he understood. His brother had let himself fall, the same way that Luther had let himself be beaten down in the ring. Five had just given up. </p><p>Luther doubled over, sweat rolling down his forehead. He gasped for breath.</p><p>The burn felt good.</p><hr/><p>Hospitals were overwhelming. The overhead lights gave her a headache, the movement of people bustling through the corridors made her freeze up, and the noise seemed to come at her from all angles. It was easy to see why Harlan didn’t come for check-ups here: just being in this environment was unbearable. It had been a bad idea to bring the boy with them, Vanya realised now. But he couldn’t stay at home unsupervised and there was nobody around to watch over him. The boy was humming in distress, hands clamped over his ears, and her heart ached for him. </p><p>“It’s okay, hon, it’s safe here,” Sissy ushered him down the corridor, keeping him close to her side, “Momma’s got you, okay?”</p><p>Vanya felt unbearably guilty for dragging them here with her but she couldn’t do it alone. It was only the reassuring squeeze of Sissy’s hand on her shoulder that had given her the strength to walk through the double doors and up to the reception desk. Announce who she was to the receptionist as if her identity wasn’t brand new to her. Besides, even with Sissy accompanying her, Vanya wasn’t sure she would be able to handle seeing Five like… Like…</p><p>When they found the right door, Vanya hesitated and her hand hovered uncertainly above the door handle. Maybe coming here was a bad idea. She didn’t even remember him that well. What could she possibly do to help without any memory of who Five was? Maybe she should just go home.</p><p>As if he had read her mind, Harlan made a noise and bumped his head against her side. It was a deliberate move. His mother murmured an apology and tugged him away gently, trying to calm him down. But it wasn’t an aggressive gesture in the slightest: in fact, Vanya got the distinct impression that he understood she was upset and was trying to reassure her. Harlan was much smarter than his father gave him credit for. </p><p>“Want me to get that for you?” Sissy asked, nodding to the door handle.</p><p>Silently, Vanya nodded and shuffled out of the way. The other woman gripped the door handle with her spare hand, turning it slowly, and pushed the door open. Feeling as if she was in a sort of trance, Vanya floated into the room. She was grateful for the quiet that washed over her. </p><p>Unlike the busy hospital corridors, it was quiet here- silent except for the steady beep of the machines monitoring her brother’s vitals. The room itself was bright white, (it reminded her of her nightmares and made her flinch instinctively), and bare for the most part, clearly designed for observation rather than treatment. A nurse was keeping an eye on the bed, sitting on one of the chairs beside it, and flipping through a magazine.</p><p>Harlan’s hand flaps alerted the nurse to their presence and she glanced up at them.</p><p>“How do you do, ma’am?” Sissy smiled politely, “I hope we’re not disturbing.”</p><p>There was something sharp underlying the formality, as if she didn’t really mean what she was saying. Vanya got the sense that her… friend didn’t care whether or not they were disturbing. She was just extending her usual Southern hospitality out of habit. In her arms, Harlan squirmed and resisted being held by his mother, trying to pull free. He clearly wanted to inspect the beeping machines, staring at them eagerly. </p><p>The nurse’s eyes flickered between them, “Are y’all family?”</p><p>She shared the twanging accent that Vanya had grown used to. Nearly everybody she’d met in Dallas spoke with a friendly Texan drawl, which made her feel even more out of place than usual. Carl had even laughed at her pronunciation a few times before, which had made Sissy’s practiced expression falter and caused her to bite down on her tongue. She didn’t dare say a bad word to him.</p><p>“He’s my brother,” Vanya said quickly, “They said it was okay to visit.”</p><p>“Could they possibly have a few moments alone?” Sissy said, fixing the nurse with another smile, “I’m sure Vanya would appreciate spending some time with her younger brother.”</p><p>The nurse snorted, “Alrighty. But I can’t promise he’ll talk back.”</p><p>Something flared suddenly in Vanya’s chest, like a pulse of energy, and the light overhead flickered rapidly as if it was blinking at them. Harlan, who had successfully wriggled free of his mother’s arms and wandered to the machines, started clapping his hands in distress and trying to shield his eyes. Immediately, Sissy dropped to her knees to comfort him and make sure he was okay.</p><p>The nurse barely reacted, letting herself out of the room and disappearing into the maze of corridors. Vanya took a deep breath, exhaling slowly, and felt the burst of energy inside of her subside quickly. Her shoulders relaxed, her hands going limp at her sides, and she realised that she must’ve exerted her powers without intending to. How come she couldn’t control herself like her siblings seemed to be able to?</p><p>“Vanya,” Sissy touched her gently on the arm, “I’m gonna take Harlan outside. You just come and find us when you’re done, okay?”</p><p>She nodded, “Yeah, sure, uh, thanks.”</p><p>The other woman looked at her tenderly. Sissy opened her mouth as if there was something more she wanted to say before suddenly deciding against it. Instead, she just pressed her lips together and smiled in a way that said it all. It made Vanya feel warm and fuzzy inside, pulling away so she didn't get too overwhelmed. </p><p>Sissy gave a kind wave before clicking the door shut behind her. With everybody else gone, Vanya suddenly found that she was faced with no other options than looking at her brother. Until now, Vanya had only glanced at him from the corner of her eye and even that had sent her heart racing in her chest. He looked so... Small, even to her. She had to steel herself to look: she had come here to see her brother and there was simply no putting it off anymore.</p><p>It was strange seeing him in anything other than his school uniform, especially a white hospital gown. His eyes were shut, head rolled to one side so that he was facing the wall, and it just looked like he was sleeping peacefully. At least his chest was rising and falling steadily. He was so still and pale that his breath was the only indicator he wasn’t d- was alive. A flash of familiarity shot through Vanya's mind. </p><p>
  <em>Suddenly, she was five and scared of being alone. Tear stricken, she shook her brother awake. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>"Vanya?" Five mumbled blearily. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>Despite her efforts, no words came out.</em>
</p><p>The memory slipped away as quickly as it had come and her head started to ache. Vanya took the nurse’s chair, unsure of what she actually supposed to do now. They said people in comas or whatever could hear, right? Maybe she could talk to him? But she had no clue what she would even say. She leant forward, letting her head fall into her hands and resting there. She massaged her temples, trying to numb the familiar pain. </p><p>“I don’t belong here,” Vanya mumbled through her curtain of hair and, for the first time, she didn’t mean 1963 or Dallas or even Texas.</p><p>She shouldn’t be here, in this room, when her other siblings were much closer with Five. It was selfish of her. </p><p>As if he had heard her- <em>maybe catatonic people were aware of their surroundings?</em> - a movement from Five caught her attention. It was so slight, so minuscule, but Vanya noticed immediately. Her head snapped up, eager to see him awake, and he was no longer looking at the wall. Instead, he was staring up at the ceiling and his eyes were wide open, although his pupils stayed eerily still. It was just like Diego had described over the phone. </p><p>“Five? Are you awake, Five? You had us all scared for a while there.”</p><p>Slowly, she rose from her seat and approached the bed again. There wasn’t a single flicker of recognition on his face as Vanya stood over him- it hurt her, physically hurt her, more than she thought it would. Five didn’t even seem to be aware that she was there, even as she gently brushed a hand over his cheek and felt the warmth of his skin. She expected him to flinch at her touch... But nothing. </p><p>Clearing her throat, she withdrew her hand and forced herself to choke out words:</p><p>“The doctors said you got really lucky. No permanent damage.…”</p><p>It was a stupid thing for her to say, Vanya realised. Lucky? What a joke <em>that</em> was.</p><p>“You should be able to come home soon.”</p><hr/><p>It was ridiculous, the size of the mansion that Klaus was calling home. While they hadn’t exactly grown up in the smallest house in the world, Diego had always found it strangely lonely living in a big empty house. He'd gotten out of that place as soon as he could. He couldn’t really understand why his brother would choose to live in a mansion again or where he had even gotten the money to afford one: he couldn’t imagine Klaus had worked for it. Back home, he'd never worked a day in his life. How much money was his bizarre perverse cult bringing in exactly? </p><p>Diego tried the double doors and, finding that they were unlocked, let himself into the mansion. It didn’t look very… Klaus. There was no clutter, no scribbles on the walls, and some of the furniture was still covered in dust sheets. He’d clearly only moved into this address recently. Still, it was clear that the house hadn't been completely abandoned- he could hear quiet conversations nearby. His hand went to his knife instinctively. </p><p>“Prophet?” A curious voice came from a woman peeking around the corner, “Oh, I’m sorry, I thought you might be-“</p><p>“The door was unlocked,” Diego gestured to it flippantly, “You’re lucky I come in peace.”</p><p>Even though the woman seemed harmless, he kept one hand on his knife. It was reassuring more than anything else. </p><p>“Oh, everyone is welcome here,” The woman stepped out from behind the wall so he could see her better and held out her arms as if to hug him.</p><p>She was dressed in loose pale blue clothes, her shirt and pants made from the same material, and had a seashell hung around her neck, (Klaus had always been a fan of the beach). Her glasses were simple frames and drew attention to her pretty brown eyes. Notably, the woman’s hair seemed to have been ironed flat in a similar way to Allison’s, which must be the style for 1963. On her outstretched palms, the familiar ‘HELLO’ and ‘GOODBYE’ greeted him.</p><p>Realising he was staring, Diego cleared his throat and dodged her hug. He wasn't in the habit of greeting people with physical contact, especially complete strangers. She didn’t seem too upset by it, lowering her hands back to her side, though she continued to tail him as Diego started to look around. There were other people in identical outfits, chattering as they cleaned up the house and they paid little attention to him once they realised he wasn't, in fact, 'the prophet'. One man was carefully dusting a portrait of Klaus, making Diego snort derisively. His brother was such a narcissist. </p><p>“Do you seek the wisdom of the prophet?” The woman asked, smiling at him.</p><p>“Yeah, I’m not sure Klaus is wise,” Diego muttered, “Stoned, maybe. You know where he is, uh-“</p><p>“Jill!” She supplied cheerfully, “We’re preparing for his return. Would you like to wait with the other wandering child?”</p><p>Before Diego could ask what the hell she was talking about, Jill took him by the hand and lead him outside. It was looking to be a warm day and he had to shelter his eyes from the morning sunlight until he readjusted to it. He was still used to the closed walls of the asylum, barely any natural light filtering in. Behind the mansion, there was a large pool as well as luscious, well-cared-for gardens. Even more hippies were wandering the grounds, all barefoot.</p><p>There was a figure sitting by the edge of the pool, his head tilted forward as he looked down at the water. On closer inspection, it was a young man- more of a boy really- dangling his feet in the pool and wearing a faraway expression on his face. As they approached, he scrambled eagerly to his feet and turned to them expectantly. His face fell immediately. Diego didn't recognise him but he looked too ordinary to be one of the cult's sheep. </p><p>Jill seemed intent on keeping them there, “I’ll get some pamphlets for you!”</p><p>“I really don’t have- I need to- when’s Klaus coming back?” Diego called after her.</p><p>He didn’t receive a response as she disappeared back into the mansion without a backwards glance. Groaning, Diego rolled his eyes and wondered if it was even worth sticking around. He couldn’t wait around all day. God only knew when his brother would come back from… Wherever he’d gone. Klaus was always wandering off and disappearing for days on end, completely vanishing from the map. Besides, what if something had happened to him? Diego still hadn’t ruled out a kidnapping.</p><p>Or, worse, maybe those Danish assassins had intentionally split them up. A sort of divide and conquer strategy, so that they could pick them off one at a time. In which case, he really couldn’t afford to sit around reading pamphlets. His siblings might need his help. </p><p>The other man spoke hesitantly, “Are you, uh, looking for the ‘prophet’?”</p><p>He sounded skeptical, almost jokey, and Diego warmed to him immediately.</p><p>“At home, we call him the ‘village idiot’,” He said, extending a hand, “I’m Diego.”</p><p>“Dave Katz,” The man shook his hand formally and then added quickly, “Sir.”</p><p>It made Diego feel old to be addressed like that. He was only twenty nine years old- or was he thirty now? His birthday had passed in the asylum but he'd skipped a few months when they time travelled- but they had always dressed their father as 'sir'. Or, at least, Reginald Hargreeves had instructed them to. Only Luther had really stuck to that kind of formality with him. Diego had just called him an asshole. </p><p>“Katz? What, is that Jewish?”</p><p>Reflexively, Dave tensed and gave a small nod. Of course, it was only 1963 and prejudice was still overtly prevalent in Dallas: Diego had lost track of the amount times he'd been accused of being Cuban, despite the fact he'd never even visited the country. Allison couldn't go into most establishments without rumouring her way in and Klaus seemed to have been socked in the face recently. Perhaps, Dave had good reason to be cautious. </p><p>“Me too, by birth at least,” Diego squeezed his hand, “Good to meet you, man.”</p><p>"Yeah, uh, you too. So, um, you know this guy? Klaus?”</p><p>Chuckling, Diego took a seat beside the pool, "I'd say so. He's my brother after all."</p>
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